From The Ashes
by MaeraRhiannon
Summary: "...sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right." What if Harry were no longer the last Potter?
1. And Death Spoke

I'm not quite sure about this, the idea popped into my head when I should have been doing my homework. The Crow is probably one of my favorite movies.

I love picking out names, can spend forever looking at them and their meanings. Emina would have been 18 when she died, unless I screwed up in my math which is a strong possibility.

"People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right." Sarah- _The Crow_

* * *

A flash of lightening broke the darkness of the Godric's Hollow graveyard, the kissing gate creaking eerily as it was caught in the storm's cold wind. As the storm lulled a dark bird dropped from the sky and onto a small gravestone, the birds head tilted for a moment as its beady eyes focused on the engraved name.

Emina Faye Potter

12 July 1962 - 21 September 1980

_I could not stay another day,  
To love, to laugh, to work or play;  
Tasks left undone must stay that way.  
And if my parting has left a void,  
Then fill it with remembered joy.  
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss..._

_Perhaps my time seemed all too brief—  
Don't shorten yours with undue grief._

The bird ruffled its feathers, turning its eyes to the shadows lurking at the edges of the yard, even as a dark haired woman seemed to step from them. Her gaze slid from the bird to the engraving, "You've done well, my friend." The bird leapt from the headstone to sit on the womans' shoulder, as another figure, this one cloaked, slid from the darkness. Her eyes lifted from the stone to the gaze of the man before her, "Have you made your decision?"

The dark figure was silent for but a moment, "Not quite. What you ask of me is difficult, however it is not impossible. Understand that if she does not wish it, I will not force her. She will not be like others who have returned. She will be herself, the same as when she left this world- an 18 year old child, fresh from school. All of the people she knew are either dead or much older." The cloak hid Deaths sad smile from view, "I only consider this because of what we have Seen-"

"Yes, nothing at all to do with Ignotus," She interrupted hiding a smile even as she melted back into the shadows.

Death stood for a time, head tilted as though to gaze up at the still raging sky. When he spoke his voice rang with magic, "Emina Faye Potter, I require your presence. We have much to speak about."

The young woman appeared as a ghost and her eyes met Deaths with surprise, "Why have I been called here?"

"Your nephew needs you," He answered over her sharp exhale. "Will you return for him?"

"Of course," She answered immediately, eyes flaming.

And Death smiled, "Come then." The pair were swallowed by the surrounding shadows.


	2. A Secret Never Told

Harry is 7 going on 8 (my math skills do leave something to be desired though)

"One crow, sorrow, two crows, joy, three crows for a girl, four crows for a boy, five crows for silver, six crows for gold, seven crows for a secret thats never been told"

* * *

_June 6, 1987_

It was a relatively quiet morning at Number 4 Privet Drive. A small boy stood at the stove, frying a large pan filled with bacon. Green eyes slid to the window for a moment, widening in curiosity at the bird sitting in the tree outside. He gave a startled blink when molten gold eyes locked with his, a feeling of sharp recognition running through him.

A thin hand sharply whapped the back of his head, and he couldn't help the yelp that escaped when some of the grease splattered on his hands. "Boy, you had best not burn that bacon! My Diddykins will be up any minute and I want his breakfast ready," His Aunt snapped. "And you had better not be making a mess, or there will be no breakfast for you tomorrow either!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry sighed, returning his attention to the pan. A knock sounded at the front door as he moved the finished breakfast to three plates, one for his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. Just as he was setting the plates on the table his Aunt started screaming.

"I won't have your kind in my home! He promised no one would come, that you people would stay away from here," Harry edged closer to the archway, unable to hear the reply. "How dare you! You can't just come barging in here-"

"I won't leave until I speak with him Petunia," The visitor answered. "Call him out of the kitchen would you?"

His Aunt spluttered and then, "BOY! Get out here." Harry scurried out of the door and into the hall; his Aunt gave him a dark look as she stood in the middle of the hall. "You've a visitor, hurry and speak with her so she'll leave."

Harry blinked, turning to look at the other woman in the hall and stared. The woman looked rather a lot like him; her rich black hair fell in messy looking curls that framed an aristocratic face, she was slightly taller than his Aunt Petunia and seemed to be using that slight difference to stare down her nose at the blonde. The biggest difference in their looks was her eyes, instead of being a vibrant green they were a molten gold not unlike the bird that had been sitting outside.

"Hello, Harry. You've grown quite a lot since I've seen you last," Her voice was much softer than when she had spoken to his Aunt. "You were only a baby then of course, fit right in James' hands."

Harry broke out of his staring at that, "You knew my dad?" The question was out before he could stop himself and he stiffened slightly as his Aunts eyes narrowed.

But the woman just laughed, "Of course, James was my brother. We were always very close, and Lily became rather like a sister to me. They named me your Godmother when you were born; unfortunately I was very far away when they died and was only able to come back recently."

"Where were you when the car crash happened?" Harry asked, confused. How far away could this woman have been to have only made it back recently?

"Car crash," She murmured, her eyes sparking with confusion before they locked on Petunia with sudden ferocity. "You... You... told him his parents died in a car crash? How dare you! How dare you deny him the truth about that much at the very least! I should hex your eyelids to your toenails!"

"You can't! You aren't allowed to do those freaky things in the normal world!" Petunia managed to screech, before her angry eyes slid to Harry. "Get back to cooking breakfast boy, this visit is over. You get out of my house!"

"Not bloody likely Petunia," The woman snapped out, her eyes narrowing on his Aunt Petunia. "Harry, get all of your things. I'm taking you home with me." The little boy seemed to be struggling with himself and her face softened. She knelt down to look into his face, "Harry? Please go get your things. I'm your aunt and I love you very much. I just want to take you home."

The little boy seemed to find something he needed in her eyes and spun to the cupboard under the stairs, crawling inside. When he came out with his extra set of clothes, chipped toy soldiers, and ratty baby blanket his Aunt Petunia was gone and his new Aunt's face was set in grim lines. She smiled at him though and then pulled and held him close. There was the strange sensation of being pulled through a too small tube and then the feeling of grass under his feet.

Harry blinked at the large grassy field they were standing in, "How did?"

His Aunt smiled, "Apparition, I practiced quite a bit before I came to get you. Hold on a moment and I'll explain more." She pulled a slip of paper from an inner pocket of her cloak and handed it to him, "Read this, not out loud."

Harry blinked in confusion as his eyes trailed over the words, _Potter Cottage is in Rayven Glenn_. His new Aunt laughed suddenly and Harry glanced up and gasped. A house was sitting in middle of what had been an empty field. Seven crows sat above the door of the house.


	3. The Black Cat

Thanks for the reviews! I should say that this story is based on the idea from The Crow that your soul can be brought back, it will not be following the storyline from The Crow. I totally recommend the movie though, it's one of my favorites. I'm trying to work on length but generally I write chapters until I have a good stopping point.

_"In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise." Edgar Allen Poe- The Black Cat_

* * *

_June 24, 1987_

Emina jerked awake, blinking the sleep from her eyes as thunder shook the house. A long sigh escaped her as she dropped her face into her hands. _Oh Harry_. He had settled in well at first but _now_, it was like he wasn't sure it was all real. She had found him trying to crawl into the boot cupboard the night before and learned that he had _lived_ in the cupboard under the stairs, she had to take a moment to keep from apparating straight to Privet Drive and killing Petunia. Instead she had led him up the stairs and in the room she had put together for him. The little boy had looked slowly around the nicely sized room, with its starry ceiling, walls painted to look like the forest with animals added in although he didn't yet understand the significance and told her it was the best room he had ever seen. After she had tucked him in for the night, something he told her his Aunt had never done for him, she had gone to her own room and cried herself to sleep.

Her molten eyes slid to the clock as she pulled herself from under the covers, pulling a robe over her pajamas. She padded quietly down the hall, poking her head into Harry's room and frowned. The boy was wrapped thoroughly in his sheets, his forehead dripping with sweat and obviously in the middle of a nightmare. After watching him twist in his blankets for a moment she padded into his room, running a gentle hand through his hair. He calmed for a moment but dropped back into the nightmare and she dropped her hand to his shoulder, giving a gentle shake. "Harry, you're dreaming. Wakeup love."

He shot up, wide eyed and screaming apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I woke you up. No breakfast."

"Harry, Harry." She shushed, "It's alright. I want you to wake me up when you have nightmares. That's how it's supposed to work. Would you like to talk about it?"

Harry hesitated for a moment before he nodded slowly. His Aunt Petunia had never asked him that after a nightmare, just given him a good smack for waking her up. "There's a man yelling, telling her to run that he's here and then... it's quiet but then the woman starts screaming. Not Harry, not Harry and... and there's green light everywhere and she's quiet. Then there's a really scary laugh and more green light. Then nothing." His voice growing quieter throughout the explanation, "I have it all the time."

His Aunt Mina was quiet for awhile and Harry was beginning to think he would be in trouble when she finally spoke. "Harry, that's..." Her voice cracked, and her eyes met his, soft and caring. "Harry how did Petunia tell you your parents died?"

"She said that my they were both jobless, worthless, freaks and my dad was a drunk who killed himself and mum the car crash. And that's how I got my horrid scar." He recited, as though he had heard it so often her exact wording was committed to memory.

"Your father was most definitely not a drunk. Both of your parents were amazing people. Petunia was always very jealous of your mother because she was special, while Petunia was boring and normal," Emina smiled for a moment at some distant memory. "Your parents didn't die in a car crash Harry, and that scar is most definitely not from something so simple. You remember when we came here? How I told you we apparated and how the house appeared from thin air? I can make things like that happen because I have magic as did both of your parents."

"Magic isn't real. Uncle Vernon said so," Harry said, shaking his head.

"He lied to you Harry. I'm a witch and you're a wizard as sure as the moon is in the sky," She smiled slightly. "Our world is separated from the muggles -non-magical people- and when you were born there was a war. Your parents were both talented and brave and they fought in the war until you were born. After you were born they were forced to go into hiding because the man leading the other side of the war was after them, and you. He found them though and James... he tried to fight him so that your mother could take you and get away. But she wasn't able to get away, instead she begged the man for your life and he killed her. But when he tried to kill you, he couldn't. Lily knew that in sacrificing her life for yours she was sealing an extremely strong type of Old Magic. It was a spell she had been researching since she found out he was after you. So you see Harry, your parents were far from worthless, jobless, drunks. They were some of the bravest people this world has ever known."

* * *

_September 11, 1991_

"Harry James, you had best get up this minute!" Emina's voiced carried up the stairs and the boy sighed, rolling out of his bed, "We won't have time for breakfast!" At that Harry threw on a pair of jeans and a rumpled t-shirt before dashing down the stairs. Mina always made his favorite breakfast when school started. The woman beamed when Harry entered the kitchen, gesturing to his plate sitting on the table.

Harry couldn't help but smile back, "Morning Aunt Mina. When are we leaving for the station?"

"We're apparating so we don't have to leave to early. You have all your things packed?" She asked as she took a seat, golden eyes locking on his shirt with a disapproving frown, "Harry, where did you get that shirt? You had better be planning to change it."

Green eyes rolled, "Fine. I'll change it after I eat." He yelped at the mild stinging hex that hit his hand and dropped his fork.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me young man. I will not have you leaving this house dressed as though I can't afford to dress you properly," Mina's eyes narrowed, "If your father or I had come down to the breakfast table dressed like that, without our hair combed or teeth brushed, we wouldn't have been eating breakfast." Harry dropped his eyes in apology and took a bite of his French toast. They finished their breakfast in a comfortable silence and when Emina rose to clear the plates, because she preferred doing it the muggle way, Harry rushed up the stairs to check his things one last time. His Aunt appeared in the doorway, shrinking his trunk with a wave of her hand.

"Thank you," Harry said, dropping some dirty clothes in his hamper and then the trunk in his pocket. "Are you going to come on the train with me?" Harry knew about Death, of course, and had actually met the man once or twice. His Aunt had essentially made a deal with Death, and if nothing else, owed him a few social visits. Death had also done something interesting to Emina's magic when he brought her back, although she did not yet understand the full extent of it, something he seemed to find rather amusing.

She regarded Harry for a moment, the nervousness apparent in the boys' eyes and sighed, "Why not? I always enjoyed the train ride. Now you have everything? Your ticket?" He nodded, "Good, let's go." They made their way outside the cottage, Emina pausing to lock the door securely before pulling Harry close. The pair disappeared with a quiet _crack_, reappearing with the same sound in an empty alleyway.

"Alright Harry, just go straight out of here and the station is right there. You know what to do from there." His Aunt pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his hair, "Stay out of trouble and have fun. Do our House proud." And with that his Aunt was gone and a pure black cat sat in her place.

The boy scooped the cat into his arms before making his way out of the alley, into the station, and through the barrier.


	4. Thinking Cap

My life closed twice before its close;  
It yet remains to see  
If Immortality unveil  
A third event to me,  
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,  
As these that twice befell.  
Parting is all we know of heaven,  
And all we need of hell.

- Emily Dickinson

* * *

As soon as her paws hit the compartment floor the cat shifted, changing into the bird that was her preference and moving to perch on the back of the seat. Golden eyes watching her nephew intently, Harry dropped into the seat with a smile. Flipping his potions book open to reread the first chapter. He was about halfway through when the compartment door slid open, "Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Harry glanced up at the redheaded boy for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes sliding back down to his textbook. The other boy walked in, lifting his trunk awkwardly to store it. Emina jerked awake with an angry sound as it thudded loudly against the wall. The boy dropped into the seat across from Harry, making a face at his book.

"So what's your name?" The redhead asked and Harry sighed, marking his page.

"It's impolite to ask someone's name without giving your name first," Harry answered with a frown. He hated being interrupted when he was reading. "But my name's Harry."

"Harry? Harry what?" The boy asked quickly, his eyes lighting up. At Harry's look his ears reddened, "Name's Ron Weasley."

"Just Harry, now if you don't mind I was reading." Harry answered, cracking his book open once again.

It was quiet for a moment before, "Were you named after Harry Potter? He starts school this year, you know."

Harry sighed, letting his book fall shut. "No, I'm not named after Harry Potter and I'm pretty sure that everyone knows he's starting Hogwarts this year." The door slid open and a kindly looking witch stuck her head in.

"Anything off the trolley dears?"

Harry blinked; glancing towards the bird perched on his seat. "Erm yes. A chocolate frog please." The witch took his money, and handed him a frog with a smile. Ron gave the sweet a look of longing and Harry hesitated for a moment before breaking it in half, "Here."

The compartment door slid open and both boys looked to see who was there. Three boys, obviously first years stood in the door way. Two of them, situated like bodyguards, looked more than a little thick, while the third was shorter with slicked back blonde hair. He stood in the doorway as though waiting for something, a sharp peck on the back of the head made Harry realize what it was.

He blinked, trying to remember the exact wording, "House Peverell greets House Malfoy." His head tilted slightly to the side in recognition.

"House Malfoy greets House Peverell," The blonde greeted, eyeing Harry for a moment before holding out his hand, allowing the formalities to drop. "Draco Malfoy. We met at Madame Malkin's?"

"Harry Peverell. We did, manage to get that broom in?" Harry asked, even as Ron snorted and Malfoy's eyes slid to him. The blonde raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged.

"Unfortunately no," Draco answered, looking anyway from the redhead. "Had to leave it at back at the manor. Is that your falcon? Father has one; I have an eagle owl myself. She's lovely." The blonde reached out to gently pet the bird's feathers.

"No, she belongs to my Aunt. She's just with me so I can send her a letter about the sorting later," Harry answered, smothering his smile as she preened slightly under the attention. The falcon was her true animagus from, and she rather enjoyed the compliments granted to her.

"I see, what house did you think you'll be in? Since you didn't get to answer in the shop," Draco asked, taking a seat as one of the other boys slid the door shut.

"I'm not sure. They all have their good points. My Aunt thinks Slytherin or Gryffindor though I think she's leaning towards Slytherin." Harry answered, blinking when Ron scoffed. "What?"

"There's not a wizard or witch who was in Slytherin that didn't go bad. Slytherins are evil." The boy answered, making a face at the idea of being placed there. Draco tensed next to Harry who spoke before he could say anything.

"That's not true. I mean there are plenty of Slytherins workings as healers and aurors. The other houses also had their fair share of death eaters during the last war and there are plenty of dark witches and wizards who weren't a part of Slytherin." Harry said, frowning.

"Oh yeah? Prove it, name one." Ron grumbled, his ears reddening.

"Grindlewald," Harry answered flatly, raising an eyebrow. The other boy stared at his for a moment before standing, mumbling something about his brothers, and exiting the compartment.

It stayed quiet for a moment before Draco spoke, "So see the last Harpies match?"

Harry frowned as the other first years screamed as the ghosts slid through the walls. His aunt had refused to tell him anything about the sorting, other than that he shouldn't worry- it wasn't any sort of test and that no matter what the other students were saying he most definitely didn't have to fight a troll or a dragon. Now though, as McGonagall led them into the hall he found that there was little comfort in those words, he certainly felt like he was being led to fight a dragon. The first years stood, pressed close together as they waited and then Professor McGonagall placed a stool in the front of the hall, a wizard hat sitting on top of it. Quite suddenly a rip in the hat opened and it began to sing.

He nearly fell over when the first name was called, and the hat called out a house. After all that worrying, all they had to do was sit underneath a hat.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry blinked as the hall filled with whispers and everyone strained to see as he walked forward, he glanced back at Draco, giving the stunned boy an apologetic smile. The last thing he saw though, before the hat dropped over his eyes, was a falcon perched on the shoulder of a man at the head table.

_Ah, what have we here? It's been a long time since I've seen a Potter. And what an interesting one you are! Raised by one touched by Death himself! _

Harry fought back a gasp, _You won't tell?_

_Of course not, I keep all secrets. Nothing to worry about. Now where shall I put you? You are both loyal and brave but Hufflepuff wouldn't fit. Not cunning enough for Slytherin, although you could learn much there. Perhaps Gryffindor or Ravenclaw._

A small part of Harry yearned for Gryffindor, even as the hat said it. The same house his parents and aunt had been in, the same house that many Potters over the years were alumni of. The thought of a more neutral house like Ravenclaw though, not having to deal with so much house rivalry... Harry sighed; it really was up to the hat at this point.

_Ah ha! I think Mr. Potter, that I know just where to put you. Better be- _GRYFFINDOR!

Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table to thunderous applause, his face burning in embarrassment as he took a seat next to two redheaded twins a bushy haired girl joining him moments later. From where he sat now he could make out the head table, at one end sat a giant of a man who caught his eye and gave him a smile, he recognized him from his aunts photos as Hagrid the groundskeeper, there were a few other Professors who Harry vaguely recognized but his eyes slid down the table searching for the molten gold eyes he had seen earlier. He finally found them, his aunt looking rather smug from where she was perched on the back of a chair with a pale Professor with greasy looking black hair and a slightly crooked nose, as though it had been broken more than once. The man was in a conversation with another Professor whom was wearing an ridiculous looking purple turban, casting troubled looks at the bird every few minutes. Suddenly though, the man glanced past the turbaned Professor and his black eyes connected with Harry's. A burning pain shot across Harry's forehead and he yelped, slapping his hand onto his scar. There was an angry screech from the high table as the bird threw herself at the teachers purple turban, in an angry flurry of feathers before winging its way out of the hall.

Harry blinked tiredly before turning his eyes to one of the twins next to him, "Who's that teacher with the turban? And the one talking with him?" For some reason he was unsurprised when they finished each others sentences.

"Oh, that's Professor Quirrell-"

"Right waste he is, afraid of his own shadow."

"Other one's Professor Snape. Teaches potions, he's Head of Slytherin and really hates Gryffindor-"

"Knows what he's doing though, enough if he is a complete-"

He was cut off here as Dumbledore stood for silence before he began conducting the school song and the students were sent to their dorms.


	5. He Greeted Death

"While life could be evaded, death could not."

Dean Koontz

* * *

As Harry sat, swinging his feet in the large circular office he couldn't help the sigh that escaped him. He should have known this would happen, his aunt had said it was likely. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses were looking at him curiously and whispering amongst themselves, they quieted as the door opened and the current Headmaster stepped in.

"Ah! Harry my dear boy, how are you? Enjoying Hogwarts so far?" The man asked, striding across the room to take a seat at his desk in front of Harry.

"Er, yes sir. Classes haven't started yet though, so I don't really know." He answered, sitting slightly taller in his chair.

"Good, good. Now Harry I'm sure you want to know why I've brought you here," Dumbledore paused, surveying Harry over his glasses. "It has come to my attention that you are no longer living with your relatives and have not been for several years now. Where exactly have you been Mr. Potter?"

"With my aunt sir," Harry answered, not entirely sure why it was so important to the Headmaster where he was living. "She was away when my parents died, but came to collect me from the Dursleys as soon as she was back."

"Harry, I'm afraid there has been some sort of mistake," Dumbledore had a deep frown on his face as he turned his eyes to the clock for a moment. "You see your aunt Petunia is your last remaining family member next to your cousin. If anyone took you from your aunts' home and told you they were family, they were not telling you the truth."

Harry felt himself bristle, "You're wrong sir, and my aunt loves me very much. She's taken better care of me than Mrs. Dursley ever did. You have-"

The door opened again, a familiar woman standing in the archway, "That's enough Harry. Apologize to the Headmaster please."

"Quite alright," Headmaster Dumbledore said, standing as she moved into the room. His eyes were like ice as she moved to stand next to Harry, ruffling his already messy hair. "Now, there-"

"Headmaster, perhaps Harry could go on ahead to classes?" His aunt suggested before Dumbledore could begin, "There's no sense in him getting behind and perhaps this isn't the sort of talk for an eleven year old?"

"Yes, that would likely be best." Dumbledore agreed, "You have your timetable Harry?"

Harry nodded, moving to the door before it closed though, "Harry!" His aunt's voice made him pause, "Congratulations on getting in Gryffindor. Your parents would be very proud." He gave her a smile as the door shut with a click.

"Now," Dumbledore's eyes were like ice as he stared at the young woman who looked remarkably like James Potters younger sister had. "Who are you and why have you taken Harry Potter from his relatives."

The young woman gave him a mischievous smile, "The question is who do you think I am Headmaster? I could tell you anything and you wouldn't believe any of it. So what is it? Am I a Death Eater? Or perhaps a crazy fan? Maybe a fanatical pureblood who doesn't want the Boy-Who-Lived raised by muggles?" Her eyes narrowed, "Or perhaps Headmaster, I really am who I've told Harry I am. Perhaps I took the boy from the terrible people you placed him with because I really am the last of his family."

"Harry has been with you for almost 5 years now; I don't believe you to be a Death Eater. Had you been I doubt he would currently be sitting in Charms." The Headmaster answered, "However I do wish to know exactually who you are saying you are."

"I _am _Emina Potter," She answered, steel in her voice even as she turned her molten eyes to one of the shelves in the office. "I am unsure what I can do to convince you I am telling the truth, not that it matters really."

"Oh? And why would that be?" Dumbledore asked, seeming thrown by the idea that someone truly didn't care about his opinion.

Emina surveyed him with a shrewd look, "Because _Harry_ trusts me despite what you just tried to pull. He knows I'll take care of him and look out for his best interest." Here her eyes turned downright piercing, "His. Not the 'greater goods'."

Albus Dumbledore looked away and the office was silent for a few moments before he spoke. "If you are indeed Emina, you are not the girl I remember. How is it that you are here? I went to the manor that night."

"Professor, _look at me_." She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. "I… did die that night. I can _remember_ every moment of that night. They killed my mother first, so that father would have to watch. And then they… tortured me- I.. I can remember how it felt, you know. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. They killed my father while they were doing it, the last thing he saw. And then they killed me. It changes you, dying I mean." She gazed out the window for a moment, "It seems like such a blur, being dead. All I can remember is this feeling that I shouldn't be there yet, that there was something I needed to be doing. And then I heard his voice, calling me back."

"Whose voice, Emina?" Dumbledore asked, sounding as though, at long last, he believed her.

"Mine," Dumbledore spun, his eyes wide as they took in the man who was leaning gracefully against the bottom of the stairs. His aristocratic features mimicked those of the Black and Potter families, yet there was something otherworldly about the dark haired young man.

"And you are?" Dumbledore asked, pushing down a feeling of foreboding at the predatory look in his eyes.

"Death. A pleasure to meet you Albus, I can call you Albus?" He smirked, dropping gracefully into one of the armchairs in front of the desk as Albus sunk into his own chair. "Yes, perhaps sitting is best. This is going to be a rather long conversation."


	6. He Kindly Stopped

"It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."  
― J.K. Rowling, _ Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had been at a loss for words a handful of times in his long life, the majority of them in his youth. Never had he been at such a loss as now, Death himself and a long dead student sat chatting as old friends in front of him.

"I am afraid I don't quite understand," he finally managed. His blue eyes on the pair before him, they both seemed amused by the entire situation. "The laws of magic tell us there is no coming back, that no magic can bring back someone who has truly died. How is it possible for you to truly be here? Why you, Emina? When so many others lost their lives in that war, why were you chosen?"

"You are correct, of course. It is impossible to truly resurrect someone who was died. The laws of your magic do not allow it. Mine, however is a different story." Death answered, surveying Albus critically. "You, as many others have forgotten the old ways. It's to be expected with the passing of time, but even though you have forgotten them they still remain. With the amount of souls leaving this world, I hardly have the time to carry them all. The crows do much of that work, bringing the souls to the afterlife. From time to time there are souls who are not yet ready, or have been lost much too soon. Sometimes, though not often there is a soul who cannot pass through the veil. Even less often there is a soul that is returned to this plane, until now they have always been muggle souls. Emina is the first witch to have ever been brought back from the veil, likely the last. As for why, that is my business and not for you to meddle in."

"Speaking of meddling, Albus. There is something I have been curious about since I took Harry in," Emina said, her eyes locking on Dumbledore's. "Why on earth would you place Harry with Petunia? You knew how she treated Lily and how she felt about magic. Harry had a list of godparents, why was he not placed with the people Lily and James named?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Petunia is –was- Harry's last remaining family. When Lily died she granted Harry a measure of protection, living with Petunia cemented that. I am sure she grew out of her jealousy; surely she cared for Harry as though he was her own son."

"I observed them for a morning, and I would hardly call what that woman did caring. I've seen people treat their dogs better. At the age of 4 she had him using the stove on his own. He lived in the cupboard under the stairs from the moment he arrived until I took him away. She called him 'Freak' or 'Boy', he didn't know his name until he started school. That muggle told him his parents died in a car crash because they were worthless drunks! They beat him whenever he had accidental magic all while telling him magic didn't exist." Emina had left her chair now, and the trinkets that lined the shelves began to rattle, "But you! You thought you knew better than Lily, didn't you? Thought you knew better than his parents what was right for Harry! And then to top it, you don't even bother to check in on him! You could have doomed that little boy to a miserable life, all for your greater good!"

"The blood wards-" Albus began, before his window suddenly exploded inward. Death, who until that moment had been looking rather amused, waved a lazy hand and the glass froze in midair. In a blink the window was repaired and his black eyes rested on the still raging witch.

"That I think is quite enough, Emina." His voice was hard, and she jerked back, had she not said the same thing to Harry earlier? "Control your temper."

"Of course," She managed, turning her eyes back to the headmaster. "The blood wards would have been all well and good, if the threat hadn't been in the house with him."

"If I had known, I would never have left him there." Dumbledore managed, eyeing Emina with even more curiosity than before. Wandless magic was rare; very few possessed enough magic to be able to use it. At the moment though, the air in his office positively rang with wild magic. "Unfortunately many of Lily and James choices for caregivers were unavailable."

"Unavailable? I'm not entirely sure what you mean." Emina frowned, "I know that Remus would have been impossible, and about what happened to Alice and Frank. But what about Sirius?"

There was a sudden knock on the door and with it Death stood, clearing his throat, "Well, I am afraid I must be getting back to work. A lot a paper work to be done, you understand. It was interesting meeting you again Albus. Emina, we'll be speaking later." With that he faded from sight.

"Show off," Emina muttered as there was another much sharper knock on the door.

"Come in, Minerva." Dumbledore called, finally breaking out of his thoughts. Emina had never seen the man speechless before today, not that she could really blame him.

"Albus, do you care to explain to me why I have a very distraught first year who thinks you are going to take him away from his family?" Minerva demanded, as she strode into the office.

"Ah, a simple misunderstanding Minerva." Albus answered, leaning away from his irate deputy, "In any case I do not believe I could remove him from his aunt if I tried."

"Finally, he gets it." Emina grumbled, "Do you know how long it took me to convince him I wasn't going to send him back Albus? Years. You've just managed to set that poor boy back years."

Minerva started, obviously not having noticed anyone else was in the office. Her eyes landed on the young witch and widened, before turning back to the headmaster, "Albus, please explain to me why this young woman so strongly resembles Emina Potter."

"I knew you would remember me Minnie!"

* * *

Emina sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she opened the letter Hedwig had just delivered. With Harry out of the house she had been working hard on the Voldemort front. Death had an idea of locations as he could feel the shattered pieces of soul, but they were vague and very well hidden. Luckily this had been one of the abilities granted to her when he brought her back; otherwise it would be unlikely anything would be getting done. Her molten eyes slid over the parchment with a yawn before she froze and reread the letter. She set it down and took a deep breath before turning and treading into her room, returning a few moments later fully dressed. The letter was tucked carefully into her robes, and she strode out the door disapparating with a loud _crack_.

The students parted for her in the halls, staring curiously as she passed and the gargoyle moved aside without a word. She pushed the door to Dumbledore's office without knocking, he looked up in surprise.

"Would you care to explain to me how it is a troll entered your school and my godson came close enough to it to have shoved his wand up its nose?" She asked staring down her nose at the headmaster, who suddenly appeared to be very old. "Not only that, but why is there a three headed dog on the third floor who very nearly _ate_ him and three other first year students?"

"I am unsure as to how the troll entered the castle," Her expression made it clear how exactly she felt about that answer, but he continued. "As for Harry bumping into the troll that is simple- he went against the instructions given to him and instead of returning to his common room saved the life of one of his classmates."

"Which he could have done just as well by telling one of his Professors the girl was missing. Not only did you put him and all of the other children, for that matter, in danger by allowing them to leave the Great Hall in the first place. You rewarded him for going against instructions and putting his life in danger." Her face was hard, and her golden eyes seemed to burn. "Harry is all I have in this world. The single most important thing to me and I've entrusted you with him, so far I am deeply disappointed in the care the school has provided. Lily and James would be as well, this is not at all the Hogwarts I remember attending. I want to speak with Harry immediately, in Minerva's office." It wasn't a request, and the Headmaster seemed to pick up on that.

"Emina, I'm afraid that isn't possible at the moment. Harry is in potions, Severus-" He began, attempting to take control of the conversation before realizing that mentioning Snape may not have been the best route as the witch in front of him zeroed in on that.

"Snape? Even better, I've a few things to speak about with that child parading as an adult." She practically snarled, "And don't you dare attempt to defend him. James was a terrible bully; we both know that despite your refusal to admit it. He was spoiled and childish, but Harry is not. And he is not James and mostly certainly does not need to hear of his dead fathers faults from a petty man who refuses to grow up! Now call my nephew out of class before I go retrieve him myself."


End file.
